“Stop!” he called.
Elizabeth stood still, recognizing him at once from the description of Colonel Thomas.
“What do you want with me?”
Black Smith grinned at her.
“It ain’t no use to come here unless you got the paper.”
Elizabeth backed against the tree, appalled by the savage aspect of Smith.
“I have no paper that would be of any value to you.”
Black Smith came closer.
“You made out a paper,” he insisted. “We heard tell of it. You can’t keep things secret from the mountain people. You’ve got to get it for us.”
“That was a will made for the sick old woman,” explained Elizabeth. “She was afraid that her son would take her money for a gun and she would not have decent burial. I made a will for her.”